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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26801443">Rocket's Rocket</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisanTora/pseuds/ArtisanTora'>ArtisanTora</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:47:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26801443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisanTora/pseuds/ArtisanTora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rocket and Gamora return from a mission with a pretty prize in hand. Drama ensues, along with furry-alien on green-alien bone-time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Boyfriend/Girlfriend</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rocket's Rocket</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Placing trust in someone doesn't come without risks. They can take that goodwill and throw in any horrible direction, or place it on their chest in mock kindness before stomping it into the mud when your back is turned. Yet people give it away so easily. No wonder heartache is as numerous as the stars.</p><p> </p><p>An explosion rattled the underground bunker, spilling junk from cabinets and swinging the light bulb dangling in the middle. Gamora, a fighter hardened over years of servitude, looked over her shoulder at the small creature taking refuge in the corner. Over and over he wrapped his foot to staunch the bleeding, his striped leg matted wet. His breath caught as the mounting pressure held the crimson at bay. A bejeweled goddess sat beside him in the ensuing chaos.</p><p> </p><p>"I told you about the Sandbiters on this planet," Gamora said, as she expertly chucked a grenade past the door frame and into the middle of the corridor. "It's your own fault." </p><p> </p><p>His face soured further just he tied the red and white cloth. The statuette skittered from the blast. Rubies of deep red gave it sight, and a base of polished ebony that drew attention like a black hole steadied her feet. Rocket steadied the wobbling prize with his claws. </p><p> </p><p> "Oh, do not start *darling*! You're the one who waddled your ass over a nest of them!" As soon as he finished, he took a deep breath and awkwardly scratched his whiskers. "Not that it's a big deal *whose* fault. So long as it's fun? It's fun though, right? You're having a good time?"</p><p> </p><p>Gamora rolled her eyes and turned to face battle once more, strands of black hair, unkempt from the hour long recent fighting, branched out in a wild ponytail. Rocket held back his unique brand of verbal gasoline and ignored the silent treatment. He hopped off the table and the fine grain crushed underfoot. He tried to ignore the spear of pain that shot up his hip. He cursed and hobbled over to his partner and unleashed a hail of bullets down the corridor. The small platoon of bi-pedal, rat-like creatures flew back with small thuds against hard steel walls. So small and weak their bodies, yet their numbers never seemed to thin. </p><p> </p><p>"Get some!" he laughed through the pain, his excitement rising with each bullet fired. </p><p> </p><p>One mouse, a larger specimen donned in polished scraps, squeaked a battle-cry and charged. Over his fallen comrades he dodged and weaved the bullets, before reaching his destination and receiving Gamora's boot to his skull for the trouble. The supposed leader—or perhaps general?—coughed and convulsed in agony on his back. </p><p> </p><p>"Is it really that big of a deal? Rocket shouted, reloading his weapon. "It's just fucking statue! No big loss, right?! Just how many of you shits are there?!" </p><p> </p><p>The mouse sputtered spit and blood. "We will not allow you to have Her! You whisked away our idol, our realization... of... true beauty!" He spoke with an accent of a brute trying to desperately form pretty words he had no business understanding.</p><p>As Rocket considered the war-torn planet and its inhabitants, he thought beauty might have been the common distraction for the savage folk; an idol to point at that demanded the unclean be burned at the stake, a justification in the name of maiming and killing someone with a missing thumb. Rocket snarled. </p><p> </p><p>"They'll be an equal exchange of beauty," Rocket assured the dying mouse, "in the form of cash." </p><p> </p><p>"Hell of a first date," Gamora added, kicking the general that survived the barrage right in the stomach. It flew back and added to the growing pile of tripping hazards. "But it doesn't matter how many come, they will die like the rest." She watched the final spark of life fade from the leader, it's eyes glancing back beyond the two invaders to the idol. "That's for his foot"</p><p>Gamora proved herself to be quite the vindictive ally on this mission. He allowed his trigger finger to relax for a rare moment, a mixture of admiration and crawling fear crept to mind and worked their way into a toothy smile. The knot of worry in his stomach won out, though. Suddenly, he took a hard glance at the trail of blood sweeping from his wound, then at Gamora. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey, uh, *sweetcheeks*," Rocket carefully said, "you wouldn't leave me behind if I slowed you down, right?" Before she could answer, a few seconds of deafening gunfire kicked up again, which resulted in more dead locals, until the hypnotic dance of the smoking gun barrel tickled his snout. Always a pleasant smell.  </p><p> </p><p>Gamora leaned against the wall, arms crossed. A silent look of disappointment stared at Rocket. "You call me your girlfriend and comrade, and you think I'd leave you to die?" </p><p> </p><p>"No, no, no," he said, shaking his head. Another mouse yelled and held his sword aloft. A bullet ripped his skull apart in short order. Holding his smoking gun, the furry creature sighed and looked off to the side, trying not to sound unsure of himself. "I'm just a bit new working with ya. Only been a few weeks since *I* became *us.*" </p><p> </p><p>Gamora twisted her lips into what might have been a smile. "Sounds like you're new to placing your trust into something that's not a tree." </p><p> </p><p>Rocket growled, his finger off the trigger and on his chest in pride. "I don't choose my partners lightly is all. Someone raised by an... intergalactic tyrant...If you couldn't tell, you're not to be taken lightly. You're not like the rest of us." </p><p>"So you're saying I'm not to be trusted?"</p><p>She lowered her chin even further at her partner. "Either you're trying too hard to impress, or you think you should be acting different in my presence." She crossed her arms and stared off in the distance, focusing on the dangling light. "I think your head is in the clouds."</p><p> </p><p>"Uhhh..."</p><p> </p><p>With a dismissive sigh she asked, "How's your foot?"</p><p> </p><p>Now that's something Rocket could answer. "Nothing that'll slow us down *too* much!"</p><p> </p><p>His words proved true. A few hours later, the planet's two suns hung low as they reached the extraction point—a rocky plateau that stretched high into the sky. Rocket refused any help as he hiked to the peak, still riding a bit high on the murder-spree, though he didn't object when Gamora picked up the statue and gave him a challenging glare. </p><p> </p><p>"I'll clean your foot once we're on board," she said matter-of-factly. </p><p> </p><p>"I can clean it my damn self. I'm more worried about leaving Groot alone than a few scratches."</p><p>A boom echoed in the sky. </p><p> </p><p>A custom space vessel outfitted with impressive mobility and weaponry finally broke the layer of clouds, adding some much needed blue and orange to the drab planet. The Milano.</p><p> </p><p>"About time, Quill!" Rocket hollered, hoping that his voice would somehow reach the cockpit. "I swear, you better not have been flirting with some backstreet hussies..."</p><p> </p><p>"Does it really surprise you?" Gamora said. "This is 'Star-Lord' we're talking about. He'll spin an epic tale out of using the bathroom."</p><p>The ship gave its broadside and landed as the thrusters kicked up endless plumes of dust and sand off the summit. Rocket raised his fingers in a crass salute as an avalanche of brown rained down on the ruins below. The send-off sufficed.  </p><p> </p><p>The two carefully hauled their bounty aboard the interstellar vessel and placed it on a table in the living quarters. Hands on his hips, Rocket stood proud of a job completed. His partner took a closer look, bending forward to inspect the craftsmanship. She never got the chance in the middle of the mayhem. Her backside stretched the fabric of her tight suit. "Impressive for some primitives, wouldn't you say?" </p><p> </p><p>"Very impressive," he assured.</p><p>Forcing his attention free of the shapely cheeks, Rocket frowned. "But I don't make a habit out of betraying a buyer, so don't get too attached to it." He chuckled and leaned back into his seat while his bandaged foot found a place on the table. </p><p> </p><p>"Why's that?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. "It's not like there are any infinity stones in it, we could keep it as a trophy, a symbol of sorts." </p><p> </p><p>"Didn't take you for a sentimental type. My foot doesn't like hearing that." As Rocket crossed his arms, Quill burst into the room from the upper deck, holding a small planter that contained a small Groot. Exuding a rare look of disappointment, the team's captain brightened upon seeing the bounty. </p><p> </p><p>"Nice to see that some people got lucky landing a beauty," he said, placing the planter on the table. "Oh, it's *naked*! Avert your youngling eyes!" Confusion colored Groot's face as the captain's palm shielded him from the nudity. Rocket leaned forward with a sneer and reeled in the planter to his chest. </p><p> </p><p>"You were late picking us up, Quill," he said, turning the planter around to look at Groot. "And you just basically tattled on yourself. Maybe if you kept a *tighter schedule*, you'd go beyond a one night stand, you know? *Appointments*."</p><p> </p><p>"I am Groot," the little creature in the planter said, his tone in agreement. </p><p> </p><p>"Don't you start too, Groot," Quill pointed a finger, seemingly unfazed by the reprimands. "You made a lousy wing-man." The sentient twig crossed his small branches in a pout. </p><p> </p><p>"I'll get some antiseptic," Gamora interrupted, heading towards the bathroom, wide hips swaying faster than normal. It was revealed moments later why she made a hasty retreat. "You tried to use Groot to get laid!?" Rocket roared and pounded his fist on the table, his outburst as explosive and loud as his namesake. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, yeah," he admitted, unfazed yet again. "I told a few people that I saved him from a dying planet and that he's the last of his kind, thinking it would score me some sympathy points. Didn't work." </p><p> </p><p>Shaking his head, Rocket fantasized about blowing up a building, watching it crumple to the ground, the screams that would follow. The mayhem. After he sufficiently calmed himself, he watched his captain spin around in his seat without a care.</p><p>"I guess I shouldn't be that surprised." </p><p> </p><p>A hand caught the table, and Quill stopped spinning. He looked around to see if they were alone before leaning into a whisper. "So, what happened in that dust bowl? Anything spicy?" </p><p> </p><p>Rocket stared hard for a moment and decided to gloat. "Killed some locals, stole an idol, so we had a good time. All in all, I'd say I'm the Spicemaster." </p><p> </p><p>"I didn't know your culinary skills were that extraordinary," came a deep, booming voice from across the room. His burly physique flexed with each slow step, pulling his tribal tattoos taunt. His ashen-grey skin seemed more pale than usual. </p><p> </p><p>"Drax. Metaphor. Go back and sleep off the booze," Quill said. </p><p> </p><p>His powerful frame kept shuffling forward, half-stumbling, before a look of understanding hit. He slowly turned around and traced his steps back into his room without a word. To get a man the size of Drax wasted would require a hefty bar tab and many wasted hours. Rocket looked off in the distance and shook his head.</p><p>"What kinda crew is this?" </p><p> </p><p>"I think it's a good one, compared to my old crew, anyway." </p><p> </p><p>"That's not much of a compliment." </p><p> </p><p>"No, it's not." Gamora said upon return, holding a bottle of disinfectant. She placed it on the table with a sharp whack. Somehow, she seemed more wild in her actions. On edge. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh boy, that is gonna sting," Quill said. </p><p> </p><p>"He'll get over it," she said, walking towards her room. "When you're done, come and talk to me." </p><p> </p><p>Quill made a lopsided smile. "Have fun, you two." He gave a thumbs-up. </p><p> </p><p>"Get your mind out of the gutter for once. She's acting like she'd rather keep diamond-tits over here." He waved his hand off to the side. Quill took notice of the mounds of diamond below its collarbone. </p><p> </p><p>"That would be a... waste," he said and drummed a hand on the table, taking out his Walkman moments later to disappear in his own head space. </p><p> </p><p>Rocket thought about questioning his captain's lax attitude for once. The idea of losing blood, sweat, and money on the mission didn't sit right; he stared into the pair of ruby eyes, his latest prize, and saw a flash of Gamora. "We're fighters, right? What do we need symbols for?" </p><p> </p><p>Quill looked up from the cassette spinning in the player, shrugging. "I couldn't imagine life without my walkman. And despite some… recent thievery, I'd say we're guardians. Mostly." </p><p> </p><p>"Those little shits were all barbarians, child-killers, and had horrible hygiene to boot, if you want an escuse for the genocide," Rocket growled. "Plot a course back to the client. She'll get over it."</p><p>"Alrighty."</p><p> </p><p>Pushing the thoughts away, Rocket quickly popped the lid off the bottle, and didn't think twice about pouring the contents over his foot, soaking through the bandage to the exposed wounds. Quill turned up the Walkman's volume as a yell pierced through the dark reaches of space. </p><p> </p><p>Steam billowed from the heated shower as Rocket waited on the bed, twiddling his claws as the outline of his partner shifted in the shower stall. Every heartbeat throbbed his abused foot. The bathroom door had never been left open like that, and the blurry outline in the stall displayed a healthy amount of curves. Gamora opened the shower door seconds later and reached for two towels. She appeared with it wrapped around her torso, her face as calm as ever. The other she used to begin drying her wet hair.  </p><p> </p><p>Lifting a brow, he caught sight or her toned thighs peeking out from the cloth, and quickly shifted his eyes up to avoid getting distracted. A handful of breasts didn't help, pushed together like two heavy oranges. Finally, he locked with something not to get him in further trouble—her unamused face. </p><p> </p><p>"You're the one who left the door wide open," he said, averting his gaze to a collection of bladed weapons hanging on the wall. "If you didn't want me to look, then you should've shut it." </p><p> </p><p>"It's fine," she said, taking a seat on the bed. The towel strained to hold her assets as she crossed her long, toned legs. Lacking conventional sweat glands, the lingering heat made his palms sweat. </p><p> </p><p>Gamora finished drying her hair and shirked the damp towel to the side. "So, you give it any further thought?"</p><p> </p><p>It took him some time to grasp the meaning behind those words, slowly straightening his back to appear that tiny bit taller. "Are you serious? Get real, toots! We don't need the thing for shit! We can sell it, and I don't know, buy you some makeup?" </p><p> </p><p>"You have a foul mouth and money instead of a brain." She paused, staring at his bandaging. "Hairball." </p><p> </p><p>His face strained, and shook in anger as he thought. "Oooooooh-ho-ho, despite my dangerous smarts, even I can't fucking fathom why you'd sink that low! Calling me a furball!" </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes rolled. "Payback for the stupid makeup comment." </p><p> </p><p>A blur of gray and black flew into Gamora. Rocket snarled in anger as he tried to pin her shoulders, trying to utilize every inch of power in his compact body. A mouse's efforts against a grown lioness. She examined the resolve in his eyes, and before he could open his mouth to apologize, she flipped the situation. No amount of logical thinking could help him now, he even had trouble registering the sudden impact against the firm mattress. All he knew was that the towel came off, revealing gorgeous green mounds of breast, capped with dark nipples. </p><p> </p><p>"You should have known better to get in close combat with me!" </p><p> </p><p>He struggled against her iron grip, and only managed to harmlessly claw her stomach with his good foot. He stopped. "Okay, I can't move. You win. Get off!" </p><p> </p><p>Droplets of shower water sprinkled his face as she leaned in, her features becoming more defined, her intense gaze, her high cheekbones... "Do you want to keep the statue… for us?" </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah sure, whatever, if it's that big of a deal, then keep the damn thing." </p><p> </p><p>She frowned and measured him up, from the top of his furry ears to his little toes. "I'm not happy with that response. Which means I'm going to have to show you something." </p><p> </p><p>He smiled, which turned into a shit-eating grin—hoping to strike a nerve. "To be fair, you're showing me plenty." </p><p> </p><p>She rolled her eyes and a pair of hands sunk into his furry back to pull him close. Their lips met for the first time. His eyes went comically wide, and her soft breasts provided a nice cushion between them. His whiskers started to itch as a dull throb in his chest quickened over something different than death and carnage, which didn't help his foot in the slightest. Fear kept him locked in place as much as she did. Fear from something he couldn't quite place. Swift brain-work turned up a single word: Vulnerable. He felt so vulnerable.</p><p>He didn't like to feel that way. </p><p> </p><p>Pinned, overtaken by someone larger, for a reason he couldn't *quite* understand. However, his body reacted with a tingle that played across their combined lips and took root in his crotch. He knew what was happening, why his body reacted. Although he didn't like it. He imagined a more equal affair when it came to sex, anything but pinned at someone's mercy.</p><p>She broke the kiss after an eternity. He breathed rapidly, regaining his composure from the intimate embrace as his chest heaved. Suddenly, she laid the flat of her palms on the bed and performed a handstand. She didn't hold it for long, and turned it into a somersault. Knees slammed down and pinned his shoulders and her hamstrings did the same to his arms. </p><p> </p><p>"Ahhh!" he barked, struggling between her thighs, a bit of sticky moisture clinging to his nose. The smell was undeniable sweet with a hint of sour. It seems he wasn't the only one aroused from the kiss. After a few moments spent watching him wallow, she tightened her thigh-based grip. </p><p> </p><p>"You're not going anywhere, so relax for once in your life. I'm not going to harm you either." </p><p> </p><p>Much as he hated to obey, to give in, to relent, he saw no point in clawing her legs for freedom. She had been through much worse. </p><p> </p><p>"Your demands?" he stated plainly. </p><p> </p><p>"Lick me." </p><p> </p><p>He didn't have much of an answer for that. Instead he asked another question. "And what will this prove to me? I'll have you know I'm injured thanks to you. The nerve of some people!" </p><p> </p><p>"Then..." she trailed off. "I'm letting you taste me as an apology for your foot."</p><p> </p><p>She grabbed him by the head and glided her fingers through his fur. Simultaneously she mashed her petals into his small snout, leaking juice, breathing a bit erratic. Rocket took notice of his suddenly dry mouth, and felt a tiny throb in his crotch. He parted his lips in angry resignation and buried swears into her pussy, giving her a fierce lick. As his tongue gilded between her thighs, it caught her clitoris and stayed there. She moaned and tensed. He found a weak-spot. She squeezed harder, then relaxed to slowly undulate her lower half in rhythm with the intense tongue-lashing.</p><p>*If only I could get her to orgasm...* he thought. *I'll turn the tables on this arrogant bitch.*</p><p> </p><p>Gamora shuddered from atop her make-shift throne. "You don't have... any skill... with this."</p><p> </p><p>Her strong voice creaked out the insult, which didn't lend her much credibility. A rare sight for the proud warrior. He mentally smirked and swirled his long tongue in circles, tasting the dripping juices. He sunk into the bed, his tongue now a bit sore and aching from the intense workout.</p><p>"That's better," she said huskily. The bed creaked as she rode his face, working up a fine sheen of sweat between her toned thighs. </p><p> </p><p>"Didn't take you as a slut," he mumbled, loud enough for it to reach her ears. "Trying to bribe me with your body." </p><p> </p><p>"Maybe sex is merely the means, not the end," she mentioned, keeping her gaze locked on his face as she reached behind her back, searching for something. A hand wrapped around a hard piece of meat that belonged to him—a pink protrusion that set deep in his fur, above his testicles. Panic broke out across his mask, suddenly huffing out his nose as she slowly and carefully pumped his member. </p><p> </p><p>"Ah... that feels fucking weird..." he shivered, forgetting about whatever 'goal' she had mentioned.  </p><p> </p><p>"Better be a good 'weird.'" She continued pumping his member, gliding her fingers along the shaft in a skilled dance, milking out his sticky juices. He tried and failed to keep his lust from dripping out. His ears popped in succession. And he gave his tongue a rest. His hot breath picked up the slack as he fought back some strange vocal responses. If they were in-fact moans, he made damn sure to keep them hidden. For a warrior raised on countless battlefields, she had soft hands. </p><p> </p><p>"Getting close?" she said, jerking his cock off faster and faster, helped by the slick juices. </p><p> </p><p>He wiggled his tongue, and dug his snout into her pussy again. Realizing his sharp teeth could do some serious damage, he made sure to keep them out of his answer. "Y-yes."  Much as he wanted to get her off first, he started to sink deeper into the covers in pleasure. </p><p> </p><p>Gamora smiled and clearly couldn't keep the bravado out of it. She clamped her thighs tighter to hide her expression and shuddered and rubbed herself to a mutual climax. Sticky strands of heat jumped from his tip as he gave a series of muffled moans, which only furthered Gamora's release—rhythmic contractions and a small spray of feminine cum poured down his face from her quivering snatch. She shuddered in the aftershocks quickly after, enough to rattle the bed frame and give Rocket enough room to crawl free. </p><p> </p><p>He huffed and panted, but managed to inject some venom to his words. "Oh, what's wrong toots? Can't stay up right? Big, bad Gamora can't handle a little sex?" </p><p> </p><p>Rocket, still trying to recover from his own release, stumbled around to her upturned ass, the cheeks curving in a delicious way to meet his gaze. Upon seeing the magnificent globes in full detail, he smacked them with his palm and watched the jiggle. His cum-splattered cock found a rest between the glorious mounds. A swell of primal content made him a bit dizzy, though it didn't stop him. Nothing would. He parted his lips, letting his mouth hang open, stunned from the soft embrace of green. </p><p> </p><p>She wiggled her hips, knocking the rod off the two cushions she called her ass. "What's wrong? Aren't you going to show me how ruthless you are? </p><p> </p><p>So that's what you're after?" he said while perking up his ears—catching onto what he assumed was her little scheme. "I guess my Gamora is a little slut. Nothing but sex on the mind." </p><p> </p><p>"That's right. 'My' is the keyword. Only for *my* mate," she shot back, propping up her chin on the bed. "Well?" </p><p> </p><p>Seconds ago she came herself silly; now she was back to her old stoicism. Even dealing with something as intimate as sex didn't faze her much, apparently. Rocket knew he was being manipulated in some way. Sex brought about the downfall of many leaders in history, he knew that, thought on it, but his pride forced him to line up his rod. It prodded and poked the waiting hole, the lips blossoming out. </p><p> </p><p>*All of this brought about because of that statuette, huh?* he mused to himself. </p><p> </p><p>While Rocket managed to hide his moans, his partner let out a few groans and hisses, letting whatever reply die off before it began. He stopped spreading her tunnel open half-way, trying to adapt to the squeeze of the muscles. Electric pulses made the hair on his tail bristle out. Tight would be an understatement for the sweltering box. </p><p> </p><p>"Huh..." he said, unsure of his next step, "not what I was expecting. I thought you'd be more—what's the word?—tough." </p><p> </p><p>She made a grand exhale of annoyance and pushed back, swallowing him to the furry base. "You have a bad habit of saying the exact wrong thing." </p><p> </p><p>Reeling backwards from the thrust, Rocket crumpled into himself in pleasure; the velvety interior was a stark contrast to the warrior's stony attitude. While he rested on her back, her ass providing a tight cushion, he twitched his hips into a lax rut and slowly gathered speed. Her spine arched as she buried her face into the covers, possibly to hide a slutty expression. Possibly. </p><p> </p><p>Was he the only one to see this side of her? He wanted more of that side. A perverse curiosity drove his lower body in and out, dragging across the pleasurably walls. Gripping the covers tight, she clenched and tried to draw his cum-coated member farther inside, while carefully wiggling her ass and asking for more. Already balls deep, he couldn't give anything more, so he ignored the useless pleas, opting to instead pound away with abandon.</p><p>Gamora could have given a cat an inferiority complex with her arching back, the shoulder blades flexing together to highlight her sinewy muscles. Much to his delight, moans peeled from her plush lips, and the room filled with a symphony of carnal delights—his balls adding a quiet beat as he pumped, the wet squelch of hot pussy trying to crush his tool entirely, and his own hot moans. Whatever inhibitions he had crumpled to space dust; he went into a frenzy of claiming his mate like an animal, one that let his higher brain function go to obey his primal instincts.</p><p>"Slow down," she commanded. "It's not a race." </p><p>"And get knocked on my ass again? Not gonna happen!!"</p><p>"I want you to enjoy this, idiot."</p><p>He stopped. Completely. A swell of vertigo hit. "Just trust me… okay?" she said, breathing heavier than ever.</p><p>He slowed to a mild rhythm, and the squishy walls around his uniquely shaped member slowed much the same, he spent a moment trying to do just that, enjoy. A small ripple went through that green ass, and he liked it so much he made another. Funny.</p><p>Gamora smiled as she glanced back, wiggling and softly moaning. "Isn't this better? We're both working to make the other feel good. One of us isn't going wild."</p><p>"Y-yeah."</p><p>"What was that?"</p><p>"I said yeah!"</p><p>A small grin formed. "I can feel it getting fatter, gonna cum again?"</p><p>Something between a mumble and groan peeled from Rocket's mouth. And his throbbing member seized up. Before he knew what hit, he came again, shuddering and letting himself go. Gamora helped, her walls milking and drawing him in deeper. </p><p>Sleep soon claimed them both. A day passed. </p><p>Rocket stood staring at Diamond Tits on the meeting table, hands on his hips. He cupped his chin, seemed ready to speak but then closed his mouth. Gamora walked up behind him, placing a hand on his head. His ears had trouble perking up, but they didn't bend either. </p><p>"What if," he offered, "we prized off the diamonds and then returned it. We can claim that's just how we found it. One for… each of us."</p><p>Gamora studied the proposal, and kissed him on the head. "No, return it."</p><p>Rocket nearly fell off the chair. "Do I even need to say what's on my mind?!"</p><p>"Nothing much?" she hummed and held his hands. "I just wanted you to… have some apprehension, didn't want you to feel nothing for our first date souvenir. That's all."</p><p>"Women," Rocket said, channeling Quill. </p><p>The Milano touched down 5 hours later, in a seedy spaceport, in a trashy galaxy. Rocket returned with heavier pockets, the deal made. He returned to his quarters with Groot, placing two diamonds in the planter.</p><p>"I am Groot?"</p><p>"No, they're not food, Groot."</p><p>"Groot!"</p>
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